In a Fantasy World as Cannon Fodder, I Got Entangled with the Heroine - Chapter 40

Chapter 40: A Single Poem Shocks the Entire Hall!

Translation by: Weebsread👹

The entire hall fell silent. In an instant, every gaze landed on Jiang Qian.

Crown Prince Chen Jianzhi was the first to break the hush with a dismissive laugh. “Jiang Qian? Please. Just another nobody from some backwater. What literary talent could he possibly possess?”

He added, lips curled in scorn, “Strength he might have, but he’s just a crude brawler. Hardly the company for refined circles.”

Sitting nearby, Jiang Zixuan frowned, her brows drawing together in displeasure. She shot Chen Jianzhi a chilly glare, but chose not to argue.

Jiang Qian drew a slow, measured breath. When he began to speak, his voice was calm and resonant, cutting through the tense air:

> “Soft, rosy hands, yellow-tinted wine,  

> Spring’s hues flood the city, willows brush palace walls.  

> The east wind is cruel, thinning happiness—  

> One cup of sorrow, years of longing and loss.  

> Wrong, wrong, wrong...”

Not just one, but two legendary poems from his previous life-on-Earth’s world emerged from Jiang Qian’s lips: “To the Tune of Hairpin Phoenix: Rosy Hands” and “To the Tune of Hairpin Phoenix: Worldly Love.” The somber beauty of these verses couldn’t have contrasted more with Duan Yuqing’s earlier paeans to martial valor and blood-stirring heroism.

Within this gathering of young elites, many were women—and Jiang Qian’s poetry resonated deep in their hearts.

The pain of love found then torn away; the helplessness, the bitterness of being sundered by parental decree and the whims of matchmakers; the grief of a destiny beyond one’s control—Jiang Qian’s words drew silent tears from more than a few.

...

...

Bai Piaoxue listened, spellbound, a single tear tracing down her cheek—unnoticed, lost as she was in the poem’s sorrow.

Jiang Zixuan felt much the same. Though she composed herself quickly, she looked over at Jiang Qian and murmured, “When did Jiang Qian become so gifted? Has he... has he endured heartbreak like this himself?”

“Such beauty—even in tragedy...” someone whispered, voice trembling.

“I know, right? I almost suspect Jiang Qian experienced a love like this himself.”

“My heart aches for the woman in his poem—torn from her beloved, powerless before her parents’ will.”

“This poem... it’s flawless. I’d thought Duan Yuqing’s verses were unmatched. I never imagined anyone could outshine him. Sir, please accept my deepest respect!”

“…”

Praise filled the hall, one voice after another. Among the young women, some couldn’t help but imagine Jiang Qian as the very soul of the poem—a man of fathomless passion, loyal to the end. In their eyes, he became the living image of romance and devotion.

Chen Jianzhi had hoped to disgrace his younger brother, Chen Shimin, by comparison. Instead, the tables had turned; he now tasted humiliation.

Brimming with delight, Chen Shimin rose and gave a half-smile. “Elder Brother, it looks like you owe me, now.”

Chen Jianzhi’s face went crimson. He forced down his anger, snorting, “Well, Third Brother, I never expected you’d recruit such talent. I’ll admit it—I’m a little envious.”

“But,” he went on pointedly, “Jiang Qian’s still so young. Surely someone like him hasn’t suffered such heartbreak firsthand?”

“How could he write so soul-wrenching a verse unless he’s lived it?”

His doubts quickly caught flame.

“That’s true! Jiang Qian’s barely grown—how could a poem like that come from his hand?”

“Now that His Highness mentions it, I wonder if he really composed it himself. Without the pain, could anyone write with such depth?”

“Poems like this... only the truly heartbroken could pen words so raw. Jiang Qian’s years are too few—how could he know sorrow like that?”

“…”

Chen Jianzhi let the crowd’s suspicion curl around the room, a satisfied smile touching his lips. This was the outcome he’d wanted all along.

Yet Jiang Qian remained unruffled, his gaze steady. He offered a mild smile and said, “It’s true—I haven’t suffered such heartbreak myself.”

“But I once heard a tale from my mother just like this. My poem was born from that story.”

“Does anyone still doubt me?”

Another wave of murmurs swept the room.

“I want to hear that story—it must be heart-wrenching!”

“Either way, Jiang Qian’s literary skill is beyond question. To take a story and turn it into such vivid, immersive verse... that’s a gift in its own right.”

“With this, Jiang Qian will surely win this year’s poetry contest!”

“…”

Chen Jianzhi’s lips twitched with irritation, but he forced a thin smile. “Indeed—Brother Jiang, your talent is truly impressive. I am... thoroughly convinced.”

That little upstart. How dare he side with King of Qin and make a fool of me? Duan Yuqing was right—Jiang Qian is dangerous. He must not be allowed to remain!

Before long, the poetry recitation was over.

Jiang Qian resumed his seat.

Bai Piaoxue instantly leaned in, eyes alight with curiosity. “Jiang Qian, can you tell me the story behind that poem sometime?”

Jiang Qian’s smile was gentle. “Of course. When there’s time, I’ll tell you everything.”

Bai Piaoxue grinned in delight. “I’ll hold you to that!”

Meanwhile, Duan Yuqing had quietly returned to Chen Jianzhi’s side. In a low, steady voice, he promised, “When the martial contest begins, I won’t disappoint Your Highness.”

“I trust you, Holy Son,” Chen Jianzhi replied, giving a single nod.

Duan Yuqing’s eyes darkened as he cast a glance at Jiang Qian and Bai Piaoxue, their laughter ringing softly together.

If not for Jiang Qian, Little Junior Sister would already be standing by my side.

If not for Jiang Qian, I wouldn’t have been humiliated today.

All because of him.

Soon enough, the martial contest began. The young talents, eager to show their skills, took to the arena one after another.

“How confident are you against Duan Yuqing?” Chen Shimin quietly asked Jiang Qian.

Jiang Qian shook his head, answering honestly, “I’m not certain. Duan Yuqing is exceptionally strong—I’m not sure I can best him.”

Unless I reveal the Myriad Demon Sacred Body or use the “Myriad Demon Qilin Codex”... only then might I have a chance.

Just then, Bai Piaoxue spoke up. “Jiang Qian, let me handle him when the time comes. Our strengths are about the same, after all.”

Chen Shimin finally looked her way, realization dawning.

She’s right—Bai Piaoxue’s cultivation is equal to Duan Yuqing’s. Both inherited formidable legacies; their power is well-matched.

“In that case, we’ll rely on you, Young Sect Mistress,” Chen Shimin offered respectfully.

She acknowledged him with a nod, saying nothing more.

At the same time, Chen Jianzhi was deep in conversation with Duan Yuqing and his followers, likely weighing their strategies for the contest ahead.

For both princes, the stakes were high. This was more than friendly rivalry—they sought victory to prove their strength, and more importantly, to win the hearts of the gathered talents and bring them to their side.

After all, most of these young nobles were the sons and daughters of high-ranking officials. Their parents had no doubt arranged their presence, hoping to judge both Crown Prince and King of Qin for themselves.

Everyone in court knew—the Emperor’s days were numbered. Chen Jianzhi might be the nominal heir, but he had never enjoyed the Emperor’s favor. In truth, the old man favored King of Qin, Chen Shimin.

When the Emperor finally passed on, it wasn’t impossible that a secret edict could depose the Crown Prince and name King of Qin as the next ruler.

So it was that none dared pledge themselves too openly to Chen Jianzhi. This grand gathering was the perfect chance for everyone—ministers and their children alike—to measure both brothers for themselves.

Both princes understood well the self-serving calculations of the court. That was why they put forth every ounce of wit and prowess, hoping to sway hearts and minds.

Suddenly, Duan Yuqing strode to the center of the arena. He pointed at Jiang Qian, his cold voice ringing clear:

“Jiang Qian, step forward. I challenge you to a duel!”